


Cynthia

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: A little fluffy, F/M, a little melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Prompt request for a fic where Mulder and Scully travel to Connecticut after Teena's death.





	Cynthia

He was going to hire a service, but Scully convinced him otherwise.  She seemed to think it was something he needed to do, and though he disagreed, the sincerity with which she pleaded for him to reconsider compelled him to change his mind.  That, and maybe the fact that she offered to come along was what really persuaded him.

 

There had to exist a state of grief called numbness.  Something that was not denial and not acceptance, but acknowledgment of the facts in front of him.  To think that his mother was dead elicited the same level of feeling as thinking of the pair of pants he’d purchased at the mall a few days ago.  Was that terrible?

 

He picked her up for the long weekend on Friday morning, with an extra coffee in the cupholder and an everything bagel with real cream cheese in a bag on the passenger seat.  He even had the radio tuned to NPR, a small concession, but one that was appreciated even more than breakfast.

 

Eight hours later, Mulder pulled into his mother’s driveway.  It had rained off and on along the way and the sidewalks were still wet, the sky was still overcast, and the air was just a bit frigid.  He supposed it was fitting. Clear, blue skies would have probably felt wrong for the occasion.

 

The first thing Mulder did upon entering the house was turn up the thermostat.  Even he gave a little shiver before he took off his coat and he noted that Scully pulled her sweater a little tighter.

 

“Should warm up soon,” he said.  “Mom paid a fortune to install some fancy central air system when she moved in.  Never liked a cold house.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“I don’t really know where to start.”

 

“The beginning, is usually the best place.”

 

“Good idea.  Where is that?”

 

She smiled at him and squeezed his elbow.  It seemed she was in a take charge mood, which worked out perfectly since he was in a take orders mood.

 

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to keep?” she asked.

 

“Nothing I can think of.”

 

“Furniture?  Jewelry? Photos?”

 

“Photos...I think there might…”

 

“Okay, I’ll start in the kitchen.  You look for photos. How does that sound?”

 

It sounded perfectly fine to him.  He was relatively certain if there was anything of interest to him, he’d find it in the basement, so that’s where he headed.  It was dark, cold, and musty in the basement. Perfect.

 

He knew what he was looking for, but didn’t know where it was.  His mother wasn’t very organized and most of the boxes were not only unlabeled, they were stacked haphazardly.  The first box he opened was Christmas ornaments he’d never laid eyes on before and what appeared to be old sheets.

 

Box after box of junk and maybe an hour or more later, he finally located an item of interest.  It wasn’t the photo album he had in mind, but it was something he’d forgotten had even existed.

 

“Cynthia,” he murmured, lifting the little rag doll with the cornsilk hair and blue dress.  “Where have you been?”

 

The little doll had been an item of fascination for him as a toddler and small child.  She had sat most days on a pillow in a chair in his mother’s sewing room. He’d always wanted to get his hands on her for some reason.  Maybe it was her tiny rosebud mouth or the softness of her curls or the little buttons sewn onto her lacy white pinafore. The few times he’d managed to sneak away with her, his father had caught him and yelled at him.   _ Boys don’t play with dolls, Fox _ .

 

The yelling didn’t stop him from taking Cynthia whenever he could, but the smacking did.   _ How many times do I have to tell you to keep your dirty hands off that doll?  What’re you some kind of fairy? _  He would’ve suffered more of it, but the first time his father hit him for playing with the doll, she disappeared.  It had to be more than thirty years since he’d last seen her.

 

Why did it matter so much that he wanted to play with her?  She was just a doll and he was just a little boy. People took their kids for granted so easily.  If he was lucky enough to have a child of his own, he’d never…

 

Mulder dropped from his low crouch to his knees, hard enough to bruise.  The failure of the in vitro was still fresh, but it hadn’t been his dreams that were shattered.  At least, he didn’t think it was. Until this moment, when he actually thought to himself that he’d gladly let his children play with Barbies or Tonka trucks no matter who they were, did it hit him he would never be a father.  Not unless he found a way to make miracles happen. 

 

Tears gathered in the corners of Mulder’s eyes that he wiped away with the inside of his arm.  He ran his hand over Cynthia’s curls and then got up and brushed the dirt away from his knees. He slowly made his way upstairs and headed to the front door where his duffel bag was to tuck the doll away.  He was suddenly determined that she would go to his child one day, boy or girl. 

He went into the kitchen where Scully was stacking dishware onto the counters.  All the cupboards were open and the sleeves of her sweater were pushed up past her elbows.

 

“You find what you were looking for?” she asked, pushing her disheveled hair back over her right ear.

 

“Not exactly.”  He came up close to her and just stared at her for a few moments.  She tipped her head quizzically and he reached up to put his hand on her cheek.  She reached up to hold his wrist and raised her brow at him.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Thank you for being here, for doing this with me.  It means a lot.”

 

“Of course.”

 

He swallowed the urge to kiss her.  Not in his mother’s house. Not like this, but soon.  And then they could start working on that miracle.

 

The End


End file.
